To Quote A Victor
by bella-sk8er
Summary: Because the victors need love too. Short mini-shots, based off quotes, about some of the victors, and how they might have interacted with each other, before the 74th games. Better inside, R&R!


**AN: So, I'm in a HUGE Hunger Games funk. It's seriously invading my mind. I can't even focus on school cause that's all I can think about. I wrote a little KatnissxPeeta one-shot the other day, hoping it would lessen the funk. It didn't work as well as I'd hoped, and that was when I realized that that's because Katniss and Peeta only take up so much of my mind. The rest of it, and the huge majority, is filled with these guys: the other victors.**

**Well, I'm no good with names, so I didn't make any new ones, but I did take a couple last names for one of the little sections. I know they suck, but hey, they'll have to do! R&R, and I'd love to hear which was your favourite. (These are in no partiular order!) Enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own the Hunger Games, don't own the characters, don't own the quotes.**

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><p>'<em><strong>The only reason people get lost in thought is because it's unfamiliar territory.'<strong>_

Haymitch walked in to the game command center, drink in hand, doing his best to try and forget that he had to mentor in a few short minutes. Taking a seat, he noticed a slight movement from the corner of his eye. Gripping his bottle tightly, ready to throw it at a moment's notice, he turned, and was barely able to stop himself from letting the bottle leave his hand, upon noticing a young Finnick Odair sitting in the corner, a fact he'd happened to miss when he first walked in. The young boy looked lost in thought, but when he noticed the old drunk had turned to stare at him he looked up.

"What are you looking at?" Said the sixteen year old, making the drunk laugh.

"The question," Haymitch began, taking a swig from his bottle. "Isn't what I'm looking at, it's what are you thinking of?" They each size each other up. Finnick may be young, fit and fresh from the games, but drunk or not, Haymitch was older, bigger and had much more experience. Finnick sighed.

"I guess," He began. "I guess I'm just lost in thought." Haymitch chuckled. "What?" Finnick snapped, losing his patience with the older mentor.

"Well, you know what they say." The drunk began as more victors started to pile in. Sitting down and taking another swig, Haymitch looks over at a confused Finnick. He chuckles again, and continues. "The only reason people get lost in their thoughts, is because it's unfamiliar territory." Haymitch guffaws, and turns around to look at the screen, ignoring the young boy with the flushed face, and the different laughs and smiles from the rest of the victors. Finishing the last of the spirits in his bottle, and grabbing another, he turns to look at the screen, unaware of the sea green eyes that stare at him just a little while longer, before resting on their own screen.

'Ladies and gentlemen. Let the 67th Hunger Games begin.'

'_**The average woman would rather have beauty than brains, because the average man can see better than he can think.' **_

Gloss didn't understand it. Why his sister was so obsessed with how she looked. He didn't understand why it mattered so much to her, when looks weren't important. It was what was inside that counted. He also didn't understand why everyone gave him a look whenever he brought it up. They all had their different version of disbelief too. Mags would shake her head. Annie would just stare at him as if he'd grown three extra heads. Chaff and Haymitch would look at each other, stare at him, and then walk away. Finnick and Brutus would just laugh at him. The last time he'd mentioned that girls should just stop obsessing over how they look, Finnick and Brutus had laughed so hard they were crying and had fallen out of their chairs. Finally having had enough of it, Gloss got mad.

"What? It's true! An average woman would rather have beauty than brains, because the average man can see better than he can think!" Finnick and Brutus stopped laughing long enough to shoot each other a look, and then start laughing all over again. Just then, two women walked by. A girl from District 3, who was shy, quiet, not extraordinarily pretty but everyone knew she was extremely smart, and a girl from District 4, who everyone knew wasn't all that bright, but extremely gorgeous. Gloss smiled at one of the girls. "Well, see you men." He told his District 2 and 4 friends, before leaving to chase after his next one night stand. The gorgeous girl from District 4.

'_**Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. It's just that yours is stupid.' **_

Haymitch was not a patient person. Everyone knew that. The one thing he absolutely couldn't stand though, above all else, were people who had different opinions then he did. He didn't care about any ones right to have their own thoughts, if their thoughts didn't make sense, the thoughts shouldn't be thought. Of course, there was always the snappy new young victor who wanted to tick Haymitch off, or just hadn't been a victor long enough to realize how little patience the drunk mentor had.

"Haymitch, I really think you should consider," Effie Trinket began.

"I'm not going to do anything you think I should. That's your opinion, and I'm just going to stick with my opinion, okay sweetheart? And remember. Next time you have an opinion, I don't want to hear it. That goes for everyone." Effie shoots her most menacing glare, which makes her look as menacing as a kitten without claws, and Johanna snorts, turning to glare at Haymitch.

"Listen, Mr. High and Mighty, Drunk all the Time, Quarter Quell Victor. Everyone is entitled to our own opinion. You're just going to have to deal with it." Haymitch looks at Johanna and smirks, infuriating her further. "What!" She snaps at him.

"Everyone is entitled to their own opinions all right." He says, his smirk growing bigger by the second. "It's just that all of your guys' opinions are stupid." Johanna blinks, taken aback, while Haymitch laughs. "Never try to out-wit a master, sweetheart." He whispers as Johanna turns back around scowling. "Never try to out-wit a master."

'_**How many roads must a man walk down before he admits he's lost?'**_

"Finnick, I think we're lost." A brown-haired, green eyed 18 year old said.

"Annie, we aren't lost. I promise." The bronze haired, blue eyed 23 year old replied. The brunette just rolled her eyes, and stopped saying anything. This was the third time he'd hesitated before choosing which way to go. She hadn't questioned it, not until that last stop, when she could've sworn she saw him play eenie-meenie-miney-mo to choose which way to go. But she didn't say anything.

Finnick could sense how Annie felt. He knew she doubted him. But he was a guy. Heck, he was a victor! He would not admit defeat. Especially not to Annie. "Annie, we aren't lost. I know exactly where we're going." Annie just giggled. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Finnick looked down at her and smiled.

"I know Finnick. We aren't lost. You know exactly where we are, and where we're going." She stood up on her tiptoes, and gave Finnick a quick peck on the lips. Their hands still entwined, they continued on their way. The whole time they were walking though, Annie couldn't help but wonder, just how many roads does a man have to walk, before he finally admits that he's lost?

'_**The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do.'**_

"You're only 14. You won't win the games." "Ladies and gentlemen, your newest victor, Finnick Odair from District 4!"

"You're from District 12. Being chosen for the games is a death sentence, you'll never win!" "Ladies and gentlemen, your second ever Quarter Quell victor, Haymitch Abernathy!"

"Your sister won the games. You'll never be able to live up to her." "Ladies and gentlemen, we present to you your newest victor, Gloss Rowland!"

"You may be smart, but you're scrawny. You will never be able to win." "Ladies and gentlemen, the newest addition to our victor pool, Beetee Monteith!"

The only thing that can comfort them, the only thing that can take their mind of everything, is that they all know the greatest pleasure in life, is doing what people say you can't do.

'_**Everyone needs to believe in something. I believe I'll have another beer.'**_

"So why do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Drink."

"I've been mentoring since the 50th games. We're up to the 73rd games. No one from my District has won since. I need a way to forget. A way to escape. A way to get all of their faces out of my head. Because if I let them in, I'll go insane, and my tributes will be worse off than ever before."

"I suppose. I still don't know why. Because you never know."

"Never know what."

"You might have some winners next year."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Seriously, you might."

"You really believe that, do you?"

"Everyone's got to believe in something, right?"

"Yeah, everyone's got to believe in something. I believe I'll have another beer." Chaff just rolls his eyes, as Haymitch grabs another beer. Both turn their eyes away from the faces on the screen, ignoring how both tributes from 11 and 12 are four of the faces, pretending they never cared about the kids, hoping that next year, they'd have a victor._**  
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'_**He who laughs last didn't get it.'**_

"Two fish swim into a concrete wall. The one turns to the other and says 'Dam.'" Everyone surrounding the overly attractive bronze haired victor from District 4 burst out laughing. Even the sour, constantly scowling Haymitch, and the tougher then nails Enobaria. Everyone, except Gloss.

Five minutes later, Gloss burst out laughing. Everyone stares at him questioningly. Before he can come up with a decent excuse, Johanna speaks up.

"Well, he who laughs last, didn't get it."

'_**Whatever women do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult.' **_

Enobaria walked into the room, wrenching her hair out of the fancy bun her stylist had made. She was furious, and she was tired. She bared her sharpened teeth. It wasn't fair. She was the one who had done something memorable in that arena. She was the one who could kill someone with a knife is one shot, even if that person was 20ft. away. She was the one who could beat up any and every male victor. So why did they get all the attention? It didn't take long for Johanna Mason, so angry she decided to ignore how much she hated Enobaria, to catch up, running her mouth.

"Whatever women do, they have to do it twice as well as men, just so they can be thought of as half as good as them!" She shrieked, hoping every guy in the vicinity would hear her. This brought a smirk to Enobaria's face. Johanna looked up at her, seething. "What? Why are you so smug looking?"

"Because, what you said is true. Luckily for us, it's not that difficult."

'_**I am not afraid of death; I just don't want to be there when it happens.' **_

"You're a victor, who's afraid of bugs. Isn't that a little weird Odair?" A cocky Gloss asked him, an eyebrow raise, a smile on his face.

"I never said I was afraid of bugs. I said they creep me out. There's a difference, okay?"

"Sure there is, Odair, sure there is."

"There is! Afraid, is being afraid. Being creeped out, means you just really don't like something. It's kind of like the word hate, but less harsh." Gloss laughs.

"No Odair, it isn't. Face it, you're afraid of bugs." Finnick's face becomes flushed with anger.

"Finnick Odair is not afraid of anything!" He states firmly, crossing his arms to make the lie seem more sincere. Then he turns around, and walks to the door.

"So Finnick Odair isn't afraid of dying?" Finnick pauses, and looks back at Gloss, a smirk on his face.

"Actually, I'm not afraid of death. I just don't want to be there when it happens to me."

'I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day.'

"Haymitch, every time I see you, you're either drunk, or on your way there. Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"Of what? Being drunk? No. Because being drunk, as I've explained multiple times before, makes me forget."

"Yes, but it makes it come back, ten times worse." Haymitch thinks it over, then looks back down at the small District 3 victor. Beetee hasn't grown much since his time in the games, Haymitch can't help but think.

"Yeah, and that's when you drink more! It's a vicious cycle, but it works."

"It's a vicious cycle alright. Don't you ever think that maybe you should lay off the drinking? I mean, you're only 25, and already you're drinking more than all the victors put together." Haymitch's face darkens.

"I can't take it. All those faces. All those innocent young faces. Don't tell me not to drink or to cut back. I'm a survivor."

"Sometimes I feel sorry for you." Beetee says, walking away. Haymitch just watches as he leaves for his train that'll bring him back to his District, victor less again. He takes another swig of his drink, barely feeling a buzz.

"Yeah, well I feel sorry for people who don't drink, because when they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day." He chugs the rest of his drink, throws the bottle onto the floor, breaking it into hundreds of little pieces, then walks off to go find his train, once again going back home alone.


End file.
